


I Went to Art School for This

by mediumrawr



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Body Paint, F/F, Femslash, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 18:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediumrawr/pseuds/mediumrawr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Porn Battle XIII prompts: aesthetic, art, ink</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Went to Art School for This

"I said to stay still."

In spite of it, Brennan shivered again. Her eyes were locked on the two white-stained fingers brushing against one side of her stomach. "It's cold," she complained.

Angela rolled her eyes. It was true that she had Brennan stark naked in the middle of her kitchen, where there was no carpet for the ink to ruin, but she had checked the thermostat herself before starting. "I've done this a thousand times, sweetie. It's not that cold."

"Shivering is an automatic response to a drop in core temperature. Obviously, it is."

"That's not why you're shivering." Angela withdrew her fingers. There was a special clay water pot, already a little dirty from the inks she had already used, and she washed her fingers with the efficiency of practice. This was _her_ way. She liked it more this way, doing it the way she had come up with, and not just miming the lessons of some other professional. She switched back to the bright almost-pink red she had chosen for drawing the outlines.

"Angela, I am a scientist, and frankly-" 

Angela put her ink-stained fingers down firmly on Brennan's hip.

Brennan shut up immediately. Then she made some kind of half-choked sound. Then she said, "It's not cold. Don't stop."

Hiding a smile, Angela continued to trace the red down the side of her subject's hip to her upper thigh, where the design cornered. She lifted her fingers and Brennan sighed and she dipped them back in the red ink. She put her fingers back against her subject's skin, did the little corner, and started to trace the line toward the inside of the thigh.

Brennan gasped. Her legs snapped together above the knees. The paint scratched a jagged line where Angela had not been able to withdraw her fingers quickly enough.

She sighed.

"Sorry," Brennan whispered, still catching her breath.

"This isn't working."

"I'm having trouble controlling my impulsive reactions," Brennan said. Her cheeks, Angela noticed, were quite red.

"Yeah, cause it turns out you have a thing for getting painted." 

They were getting redder. Actually, pretty much her whole face was getting redder. And she blinked hard. "No."

Angela grinned. She washed her hands again, still grinning. "I think it does, sweetie. The idea of being turned into a work of art? Maybe a little?"

"I'm - I _am_ a scientist," Brennan insisted.

"You know that wears a little thin after a while," Angela told her. She lifted herself gracefully up off of the tile floor. A game like this made it easy to ignore the ache in her knees. "It doesn't mean you can't want to make people look at you."

"I don't-"

Angela didn't bother to wait for the rest. She kissed Brennan, hard, and Brennan's lips stayed open and her teeth moved out of the way and Angela kept her eyes open so she could catch the way Brennan's shut hard for just a second.

She let her subject go so she could listen to her catch her breath and then could whisper in her ear. "Secretly, do you want to be the _object_ of everyone's observation?" she asked, and she gave it that practiced oh-so-soft tone. "Do you want strangers to see you like this?"

Brennan's head tilted forward toward her and her body leant just a little, but Angela had her own plan, no matter how much she did adore the way her lover's hair draped over the side of her face at just that angle. No, she had a plan. 

She whispered, "Everyone would look at you - study you - _observe_ you. They'd all think, 'What is she wearing? Is she really wearing that?'"

"Please," Brennan said. She reached out for Angela.

Angela caught her arms carefully. "I said to stay still. The paint's not dry."

"Sorry," said Brennan, and she let her arms be placed at her sides again.

"Good." She took a second to get back into her flow. "And then they'll say 'Oh God, she really isn't wearing that? Oh God, she isn't wearing anything. She's so hot. She's so _beautiful_."

Brennan gave her a low, thick moan.

"Or do you just like the way it feels?" Angela asked, finally letting her fingers trail along Brennan's thigh, where she hadn't painted yet. "Do you just like to know that someone can touch you, and their mark will stay there long after?"

"Please, please, please." Brennan's voice cracked on the last _please_. Angela liked that about her, too - that she let Angela do this to her, no matter how wooden she let everyone else think she was.

She slid those same fingers over so she could test just how wet her lover was. Really wet, it turned out. "Do you just like that it's me touching you?" she asked, and commenced to fuck Brennan with three fingers.

Brennan actually screamed. Her head fell back, then came forward again, so Angela pushed her fingers in again and made her head fall back again. Those eyes, always looking at something, were open but sightless. Angela gave the line of her neck a long, slow, delicious lick, careful not to touch where the design started near her collarbone.

Then she went back to pumping her fingers into Brennan _in out in out in out_ quick like that and watching her lover at the same time. Brennan for her part clenched her teeth and her fists, desperate to stay still for her, and she was just making low moaning sounds like she did now.

Angela kept going a little longer, because Temperance was stubborn about everything and held her orgasm inside her as long as she could, and then she couldn't anymore. Angela had to use her free hand to hold Brennan up by her thigh below the bright red line.

And then it was over, and Brennan was chuckling.

"I bet you know what's in this stuff," Angela said, inspecting her wet hand.

"I think you don't want to know," said Brennan.

"That's true. Better now?" asked Angela.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good. I have to wash this off, and then you are going to _stand still_ when I paint you. I've been fantasizing about turning you into a naked sexy nurse for years."


End file.
